


Soulmark

by MizJoely



Series: I Wish You Would Write... [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform, Soulmates AU, a dash of warstan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6489181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous asked: I wish you would write a fic where: Sherlock gets his ass kicked by a young, recently post graduated Molly Hooper because he snuck up on her mid autopsy, demanded several things and scared her so badly she used the self-defense moves that Mary had made her use. Bonus points if it’s a Soulmark AU where your skin gets some sort of mark (be it name, hand print, design, etc) at the place where your soulmate first touches you. (or. well. Punches.) Bonus BONUS points if Mycroft cackles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soulmark

**Author's Note:**

> This will be an AU just so I can get everything in there that was requested, which I can’t do if I try to stay canon (for instance, Molly and Sherlock have already touched via kisses and slaps on the show). Rated T for some Bad Language. Enjoy!

He should have known better. He really should. But he never could resist a dramatic entrance and an even more dramatic introduction of himself to someone new, and Molly Hooper was very new to Barts. She’d only recently graduated and come on staff for her residency, he knew that much from snooping through her files in the hospital computers, just as he knew she’d graduated at the top of her class. From observing her as part of a large group during her practicals he knew she was more than competent at performing autopsies; from watching her blush and stutter as she clumsily tried to flirt with one of the young, single doctors at a hospital reception they both attended (he in disguise), he deduced she’d be pliable and easily intimidated.

As he stared up at her from his current resting place on the cold tile floor of the morgue, his jaw aching from the punch she’d landed and his right instep and knee feeling as if they might never be able to support him again from the impact of her trainer-shod foot, all he could bring himself to say was, “Whoever taught you did an excellent job. My kudos.”

“It was my friend Mary. Her father was Special Forces,” Molly said, staring at him as she rubbed her obviously sore right hand with her left. She started to say something else, then gave a startled exclamation, her eyes going very wide as she trained her gaze on the spot on his jaw that currently ached.

Ached, and now…burned? He gave an exclamation of his own and automatically rubbed at the spot, which burned and stung as if…He felt his eyes widen just as hers had and met her gaze before slowly rising to his feet. “Let me see your hand,” he said. Not demanded, as he usually did, but simply stated the request.

She bit her lip, glanced down at her hands, then slowly pulled the left one away. Sure enough, there on her knuckles, was the same light purple discoloration that surely now marked his jaw. Not a bruise, although one was likely to form there eventually from the force of the blow she’d landed when he’d (deliberately and, in hindsight, very very foolishly) snuck up on her to demand any unneeded organs from the corpse she’d been about to autopsy.

“Soulmark,” he said hoarsely. He’d never ever expected such a thing to decorate his own body, nor for it to be in a place that could never be completely covered up. Somewhere in the back of his head he could hear his brother Mycroft cackling with glee. Much the way he no-doubt would the second he actually saw his younger brother again. No, his soulmark was there for everyone to see, to proclaim to the world that Sherlock Holmes had met his soulmate.

And, he thought with a slow, contented smile, his match. He stuck out a hand. “Sherlock Holmes. I apologize for being such an ass, Molly. However, I must say it’s refreshing to be so incredibly wrong in my deductions about a person.”

“I figured out who you were after I’d already…it’s instinct,” she rushed to say, stepping forward and accepting his hand, shaking it firmly. “You shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that.”

“Good advice,” he replied, not releasing his grip, enjoying the slow, spreading warmth tingling its way from where their hands were clasped and up his arm. “So. If I haven’t completely destroyed any chance we might have of actually making something of this new connection between us…coffee?”

“Coffee,” she agreed with a shy smile, ducking her head and nipping at her lower lip in what he automatically recognized as a nervous habit. One he could definitely get used to.

They were still staring at one another, still clasping hands, when the door banged open and his friend and flatmate John Watson barged in. “Jesus, Sherlock, you’re taking your bloody…time…Oh for fuck’s sake, are you _kidding_ me?” he demanded, clearly outraged at the sight of the soulmark on Sherlock’s face. He threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t believe it! What kind of a fucking world are we living in where you find your soulmate before I do?”

“A kind that had become much, much more interesting,” Sherlock murmured, returning his attention to Molly. Who blushed quite becomingly. “We were just off to get coffee, John. I’ll see you later.”

“Or you could join us,” Molly said, and Sherlock frowned at what he presumed was an instance of tedious good manners getting in the way of what he knew she really wanted: time alone with him. Just as he wanted the same thing. “I’m supposed to meet my friend Mary – you know, the one who taught me self-defense,” she interrupted herself to explain to Sherlock. “She’s not dating anyone and she hasn’t found her soulmate either, so…who knows?” She gave a half-shrug and an awkward laugh. “Stranger things have happened, right?”

“Indeed,” Sherlock replied with a small smile. This could work out well after all, even if the chances were so slim as to be almost non-existent that this friend of Molly’s would end up being John’s soulmate, at least the two might hit it off and go get coffee on their own.

It would take him exactly two years to own up to the fact that he’d been spectacularly wrong twice in the same day. And he did so only at Molly’s prodding, at the reception for their double wedding with John and Mary Watson.


End file.
